


Thermometers and Head Trauma

by ViennaWarren



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-03
Packaged: 2018-01-03 07:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViennaWarren/pseuds/ViennaWarren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets a cold which then develops into bronchitis while on a hunt for a ghoul. He tries to hide his illness from both Sam and Cas, to no avail. This is my first time posting on AO3 so if there are any mistakes, my apologies. [Also on Fanfiction.net]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bratty Teenagers

Phillip Diamandis pulled into his fiance’s driveway, exhausted. It had been a long day on the job. He was an assistant principal at the local high school and was forced to suspend two teenagers in one day. They had been fighting over gummy bears, for god’s sake. Gummy bears. Phillip had a specialist’s degree in two sciences, yet he would never understand the way an adolescent's mind worked.

The man neatly parked his Honda Civic in the garage and removed the key from the ignition. Feeling like he weighed a hundred pounds, Phillip dragged himself out of the driver’s seat and wrestled his satchel around his shoulder. Not wanting to think of all the paperwork he’d have to file the following day, he slammed the door shut and pushed the thoughts out of his head. Instead, he focused on his fiance’s daughter, Lacey. She was a freshman this year and the sweetest one, at that. What with her outgoing personality and dazzling smile, she was nearly perfect at everything, including drama and dance. Her teachers never ceased to talk good of her and her grades were fantastic. Phillip never imagined he’d want kids, but Lacey completely changed his mind. Grinning now, he opened the door and stepped inside.

In seconds, all his belongings were dumped on the kitchen table. “Lacey?” he called up the stairs. Hearing no answer, he assumed she busy doing homework or perhaps not home from rehearsals yet. Phillip turned around and nearly ran into his step-daughter. “Oh, Lace!” he exclaimed, stepping back. “You scared me.”

Lacey smiled warmly. “I did?” She threw her arms around him. “Did you have a nice day at work?”

Phillip sighed. “Actually, it was--” His words were cut off by the girl abruptly slashing his throat with a large kitchen knife. Instead of complaining to his wife-to-be’s daughter, he was slumped on the tiled floor, blood gushing from his neck. Phillip gagged, trying to speak. “Oh, don’t talk. Please.” Lacey said, rolling her eyes. 

* * *

It was Wednesday morning and Sam Winchester was drinking coffee and reading the newspaper headlines for anything interesting. _“JealousGummy Bear Loving Teens Get Suspended_ ” screamed one article, causing the young man to chuckle. Another headline, however, made him stop laughing immediately. “ _Local Man Killed, Step-Daughter Missing and Invisible Killer on the Loose?_ ”

After Sam had finished reading the article, his older brother, Dean, stumbled into the apartment’s kitchen. He sniffed. Sam glanced up from the newspaper and recoiled in horror. “Uh, dude? You look... like shit.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “And you have coffee breath.”

It was true though. Dark shadows were hiding underneath his green eyes and he was obviously flushed, spots of crimson painted across his cheeks. His freckled nose was tinged pink. Sam cocked an eyebrow and pursed his lips. “Are you sick?”

“What kind of dumbass question is that? Of course not.” Dean told him gruffly, sitting down at the table. His brother gave him one more disbelieving look before continuing. “Okay, well, call your angel. I think we have a case.”

“My angel? Why’s he got to be my angel?” he grumbled, but complied. “Cas? Get your feathery ass down here. Sam says he found us a--”

“Case?” the angel finished for him. He was sitting at the table, next to Dean. The man jumped. “Cas?! Don’t do that!”

Castiel squinted. “I don’t see what you are referring to, Dean.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Anyway, there’s this man, Phillip Diamandis, who was killed in his home last week. They don’t know who the murderer was, so they’ve dubbed him ‘The Invisible Killer’.”

This earned an eyeroll and a sneeze from Dean.

“His step-daughter, Lacey, has apparently been kidnapped. They haven’t seen for seven days and the town’s been searching since her disappearance. I’m thinking we should talk to the fiance.”

Dean nodded. “Absolutely right.” He coughed a little and cleared his throat. Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Dean, are you--”

“No!” the older brother shouted hoarsely, scooting back his chair so as to avoid Cas’ hand, making a beeline for Dean’s forehead.

“You seem fevered.” the angel noted, reaching forward again. Dean gently slapped his hand out of the way. “I’m fine.”

Sam sighed. It was just like his brother to ignore his own well-being.


	2. Three Agents and a Victim

“Cas, make sure your badge is right side up.” Dean advised, chuckling lightly. He soon realised his mistake as his laughter quickly evolved into a coughing fit. Sam gave him a concerned look. “Are you sure--”

“It’s just the dust in the air.” his brother informed him. Castiel frowned. “Currently, we are on a front porch. The amount of dust particles in the air would not be enough to cause you to cough. Therefore, it must be something else.”  

Dean was saved from answering him by the woman who opened the front door. Like most of the victim’s families, her eyes were red-rimmed and watery and her hair was a train wreck; strands of blonde fluff were sticking up in every direction. She was clad in a floral bathrobe. “Y’all must be the FBI.” she sniffed. Right on cue, the three men held up their badges as proof. Sam spoke. “This is Agent Florence, Agent Specktor and I’m Agent Nash.”

The oldest Winchester’s nose wrinkled and he hastily turned away to sneeze.

“Come in.”

* * *

Soon enough, they were all seated in the woman’s living room. She had made them each a cup of tea, to which Dean was eternally grateful. The hot water soothed his sore throat as he swallowed. The tea left a mildly spicy aftertaste in his mouth. He smacked his lips loudly, earning a disapproving glare from Sam. “So, Mrs. Lambrini,” he began, “tell us about your daughter and fiance.”

The woman sighed heavily and immediately reached for the brightly coloured tissue box on the table. “My daughter’s name is Lacey. She’s the absolute sweetest girl in the world. And my fiance, Phillip. I guess I met him about two years ago. We first locked eyes in a Starbucks; he’d spilled his cappuccino all over his suit and I’d offered him a napkin.” Mrs. Lambrini gave the men a watery smile. “He was always so clumsy.”

Castiel nodded, like this was crucial information, and started to write in his notebook. It took all Dean’s effort not to roll his eyes. 

Sam gave her a grim smile. “On that night, Tuesday was it? You came home to find...?”

“A mess. A big bl-bloody mess.” Her voice shook with emotion. “Phillip was there, on the floor surrounded in a pool of his own blood. I called the police and then searched for my child. She was nowhere to be f-found.” she sobbed, grabbing another twenty tissues.

“ _Hehh... KSHchhh!_ ” Dean let out a strangled sneeze and then attempted to stifle another. “ _Huhkchhh!"_

“Bless y-you.” Mrs. Lambrini dabbed at her eyes tearfully and handed Dean the box of tissues. Sam smirked to himself and continued. “Where either of them acting strange? Different in any way the days prior to the murder?”

“Phillip was his usual sm-smiling self. L-Lacey was too, except...”

“Except?” Cas interjected, still scribbling on a sheet of paper.

“She had skipped classes the day before. I actually didn’t think much of it. She and her theatre friends were all practising for the school musical, _Little Shop of Horrors_ , which is on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. I figured she was nervous and needed a day off.” she said, seeming to get control of her emotions.

“You allowed her to stay home that day?” Dean confirmed, nose buried in a tissue.

“Yes.” Mrs. Lambrini nodded. “Does that add to your case?”

“We think it might.” Sam explained. “Every little detail is important to us. Is Lacey typically a ‘trouble child’ at school?”

“N-no. She has all A’s and has a passion for s-singing and acting. Her dancing will take your breath a-away.”  The woman suddenly broke into uneven sobs, her face in her hands. Dean coughed and clearly his throat.

“Okay, ma’am. I think we’ve got enough information.” he told her awkwardly, snatching another tissue and blowing his nose.

The men stood up, heading towards the door.

“F-feel better, dear!” she called out to Dean. He blushed and hurried out the door towards the car. As he pulled away, Castiel studied the man in the rear view mirror. “Dean, your face is flushed and your brow is dotting with sweat, common symptoms of a fever. I suggest taking your temperature with a--”

“I’m _fine_.” Dean said, rubbed his nose and trying not to sneeze. “Oh yeah?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Really, you’re fine?”

“ _HahCHISch!_ ”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Sam announced, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “When we get home, I’m taking your temperature and you’re gonna have a nice dosage of some NyQuil.”

 

 


	3. A Trip to the Funeral Home

“Sam, Jesus, I’m fine!” Dean protested loudly, scooting away from his quickly approaching brother. “Let me just take your temperature!” Sam yelled, frustrated.

“Focus… on the case…” he said between coughs. “Cas, what notes did you take during the interview?”

“Ah, let me see. ‘Phillip is a clumsy man. Lacey was absent from school. She is sweet and’--” 

“No, Cas,” Dean interrupted, “I meant something useful.” He began to cough again. Before Dean knew it, Castiel’s feathery light hand flutter to Dean’s forehead, feeling the heat radiating off him.

“102 degrees Fahrenheit.” Cas announced expertly. “Dean, you have a fever.”

Sam nodded at the angel. “Thanks for that. Now Dean, you should probably be in bed or something.”

Dean ignored him. “So, can we rule out anything? Like, is the girl a monster? Was she kidnapped? Was it the guy, Phillip? What do we know?”

“It’s suspicious that the body was left and the girl wasn’t. I think we should check with a coroner today and inspect the body. That’s the only way we’ll know anything about him for sure.”

“Right. Where’s the body at?”

Sam went back into the kitchen and inspected the newspaper clipping. “Parker & Son Funeral Home.”

Before Sam or Castiel could suggest otherwise, Dean took his keys out of his pocket and strolled out the door. “ _HetshCHOO!_ ”

* * *

“Agents Florence, Spektor and Nash, FBI.” Dean announced gruffly. “And you are?”

“Turner Wilson, head coroner. Pleased to meet you.” He shook hands with the “agents” and handed Sam a stack of papers. “Here’s my coroner’s report. I didn’t know this was an FBI case…”

“Someone dies suspiciously and another gets kidnapped? You-bet-it’s-an-FBI-case.” Dean rushed before sneezing.

“Bless you, uh… Agent Florence.” Castiel said formerly.

“So, um,” Dean trailed off, flipping through the report quickly. “Can we see the body?”

The balding man shrugged. “Sure, okay. Call me if you need me.” He offered before leaving.

Dean pulled open the refrigerating unit, revealing the corpse. Castiel leaned in to get a better look as Sam started firing off observations. 

“There’s about a six inch cut on his neck, no other apparent markings… am I missing anything?”

“Report says he was drained of blood when they got h-him. _Htchshoo_.”

“Drained of blood? I did not detect any bites on the neck.” Cas mentioned. Sam nodded. “That’s because there isn’t any. So that rules out vamps. What else drains things of blood?”

“Chupacabras?”

“Maybe we should keep looking around Dean… I don’t think chupacabras even live in this area.”

“Right, okay.” he sniffled, rubbing his nose. Sam gave him a disgusted look and handed him a tissue. “I, umm…” Dean began, eyes seeming to drift off into space. “I….”

Suddenly, he felt very hot. Sweat dotted his face and his cheeks flushed angrily. He saw Sam mouthing his name but couldn’t hear anything. His vision went black just as his angel caught him.


	4. The Chick Wielding a Lamp

“Sam, he is coming to consciousness.” Castiel alerted the man’s younger brother. Dean opened his green eyes and coughed a little, obviously trying to hold it in.

“Dean!” Sam’s voice had just the right amount of urgency in it.

“What the hell happened?” the older man croaked, shivering. He pawed at his soaked shirt. “And why am I all wet?”

“You fever spiked at 104 and you fainted. I… caught you.” 

“We had to lower your temperature fast, so we took you back home and loaded you down with some wet cloths.” Sam explained, gesturing to the multiple, dripping paper towels covering Dean’s torso and forehead. He turned away from them and coughed loudly, unable to get a breath. Castiel hoisted the man into a sitting position and rubbed his back. Sam chose not to say anything and instead mumbled that he would “go make some coffee.”

Dean finished coughing and winced slightly, trying to hide the pain he was feeling. Castiel stepped back and pulled up a chair. “You should’ve told me, Dean. I didn’t find out until last night, when you fell into my arms. You have bronchitis. Left untreated, it can become quite painful for the lungs.”

The oldest Winchester’s breath caught in his throat. “ _Hehh... KSHchh! Htchoo!_ ” He groaned involuntarily. “Cas…”

The angel put a hand on his forehead. “You’re still very warm, Dean. I’d suggest a copious amount of rest.”

“‘m cold.”

Castiel gently covered the sick man with the motel’s cheap blankets and sighed. He didn’t like Dean in this weakened state and it made him nervous to see him in this way. The Winchester went into another coughing fit,

“Coffee’s ready.” Sam announced. “Wake up and drink this.”

The angel raised an eyebrow, looking to protest but Sam quickly shook his head. “Dean, I need you to drink this now, okay? Cas and I are going to investigate another murder. Plus, the girl’s body was found, so we might go look at that too. You can stay here and, uh, rest.”

“No. I’m up.” He grabbed the cup of coffee and took a big gulp, smacking his lips. In no time, he’d finished the cup and was blinking sleepily. Sam put a hand on his brother’s chest and gently eased him down into the bed. “Sweet dreams. We’ll be back.”

He winked at Cas as they locked the motel room door before they left. “When you have a brother like Dean who is so obnoxiously stubborn, you learn some things to keep ‘em down. His coffee was spiked with Nyquil.”

* * *

Dean tossed and turned in a fevered sleep, snoring congestedly. He was sweating when he awoke, so he kicked off all the blankets and then realised how parched his mouth was. A quick sound made him jump in alarm. He glanced around the room wildly, looking for invisible intruders.

“Wh-who’s there?!” he called out shakily. “S-Sammy?”

His eyes caught movement by the window, which was wide open, the latch broken.

“Looking for someone?” a tall blonde asked him before hitting him in the head with a lamp.

* * *

“Wake up, sweetie!” a sugary sweet voice cooed in his ear before cruelly drenching him in ice water.

“ _Huh!_ ” Dean gasped, blinked wildly, water dripping down the ends of his golden hair into his eyes. He was tied to chair, wrists behind his back. A sick realization hit him hard: he was in the Parker & Son Funeral Home. The head coroner was unconcious, gagged and bound, in the corner. He had a slit in his throat, but a small one. Dean guessed the man might be alive.

He glanced around and the woman chuckled. “Recognise the place? I figured. This really is the best place for someone like me to hide out, you know, given the circumstances. I mean, it’s totally normal for someone in here to be handling corpses and bodies.”

“And what are you? I’m guessing not a--” he broke off in a quick fit of coughing that burned his lungs, “vampire.”

“Nope. Ghoul. But those are just useless details. The only thing I care about is you. Well, your flesh rather. Blood.”

Dean laughed gruffly, then resisted the overwhelming urge to cough again. “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t want my blood. I’m diseased.” He sneezed, as if to prove his point.

“No matter. I can’t get sick. Sorry. Looks like you’re still on the menu.”

She stepped behind him and stuck a rag in Dean’s mouth before he could protest. Then, as one manicured hand traced his jawline and felt its way down to his chest, the other hand made a small incision from his ear to his cheek. He made a sound, muffled by the cloth in his mouth.

“Sorry babe. I know that must’ve hurt. I didn’t want to eat you all in one bite, though… just a taste.” Her lips found the slow, red, trickle of blood on his flushed cheek and her tongue danced around it.

“Now, for a larger cut.” the woman purred.  


	5. He's Been Kidnapped!

“The same cut.” Sam nodded towards Lacey Lambrini’s corpse. She had been discovered a couple miles away from her home, badly concealed in a sewage drain. The police had the area closed off with police tape and her body was covered with a black tarp. Sam flashed his and the angel’s badge as they stepped into the crime scene.

Castiel was struggling to put on latex gloves, trying to force the right hand glove on the left. “No, Cas, um, here…” In a flash, Sam switched the gloves so that they were on correctly.

“Sorry, Sam.” the angel muttered. “Dean usually--”

“No problem, Cas. Now look here, doesn’t that match the slash on the other victim’s neck?”

“Yes.”

“Then what does that tell us?”

Castiel paused, thinking. “They have a… connection?”

“Alright, Cas. Bravo. But what is the connection?”

“Um…”

“If the wounds are related, that suggests that the victims’ killers could be the same person. One killer.” Sam explained in a hushed tone, snapping his gloves off and cracking his knuckles. “And get this: I was up doing research last night, you know, on what this thing could be, and since we know it’s not a vampire, it has to be a ghoul. I really don’t think it could be anything else. The only problem is, ghouls shouldn’t be feeding off live humans. They typically go for the dead ones. Maybe they’re getting bored of rotten meat?”

Castiel nodded. “What else did you find out about these… fiends?”

“They can shapeshift into their victims and can only be killed by decapitation. By the looks of her body, she’s been dead for awhile too, maybe even longer than her stepfather, Phillip.”

“We should get back to Dean and tell him about the hunt. I’m sure it would lift his spirits to hear the case is progressing.”

“Yeah, you’re doing a good job, Cas. You’ll be a hunter in no time.”

* * *

“Dean,” Sam called, unlocking the motel room door, “I think we found out what it was. It’s probably a--”

The pair was greeted by an empty room. “Dean!” Sam yelled, with just the right amount of urgency. “Dammit, Cas, he’s gone!”

The younger brother immediately spotted the open window, as well as the broken latch.

“Forced entry.” Castiel told him confidently, happy to be getting familiar with hunting lingo. The gleeful feeling drained out of him completely when he fully began to comprehend what this meant. “Dean was taken?”

“Kidnapped. I don’t think he tried to leave on his own given the evidence. Damn. Cas, how’d we not see this coming? Leaving him alone, even for half a day?”

“Sam,” Castiel said, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder, “it’s not your fault.”

“We need to find him!”

“Okay. What should we do first?”

Sam ran his large hands through his rather long hair. “Um, alright, maybe we could make a list. This is a small town, right? So we make a list of all the possible places a ghoul would love to be. Somewhere where they have access to a lot of bodies, or maybe a lot of people. Like, say, graveyards or airports or something.”

Castiel retrieved a napkin off the bedside table and a pen.

“Write this down, okay?” Sam was on his laptop, studying a virtual map of the town. “There’s two graveyards in the area, one at Goodman Baptist Church and the other is family owned. Just put Goodman. Uh… no airports around…”

“Maybe they could be in a funeral home? There are lots of bodies to be accessed.”

“Good point. Now we have, ‘Brannigan Funeral Home and Crematory’, ‘Parker & Son Funeral Home’ and ‘Henry Family Funeral and Crematory Services’.” He pondered this for a moment and then paled. “Two of those places have crematoriums, making it less likely that a ghoul would eat there, considering they have to incinerate the bodies. Cas, remember when we were investigating the death of Phillip Diamandis?”

“Yes.”

“Did he act weird? Look different? Have glowing eyes?”

“I -- I don’t remember.”

“Shit, I think that’s where he’s at. Either that or Goodman Baptist. And I highly doubt the latter.”

“We’ll find him.” Castiel assured the younger Winchester.

“Let’s just go.” he said, shakily getting up. “He could be dead already.”


	6. The Man in the Coroner

Dean Winchester was floating on the sun, swimming through space. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead and his breathing was ragged and uneven, like an elderly man’s. Somewhere in the distance, a witch was cackling, her cruel laugh echoing and bouncing off the walls.

“That’s some fever you have.” the ghoul commented as she finally drained the coroner of all his blood. She smacked her lips and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. The skin began to melt away and her blond hair fell out in clumps, at her red stilettos. Dean’s vision focused, then unfocus as her fingernails were shed from her hands and she completely transformed into the man in the corner.

“Sam?” Dean asked weakly, obviously very confused. The man, slightly overweight, walked over to him and laughed heartily. “Oh, babe, you’re still out of it? I guess this isn’t going to help.”

The man knelt down to Dean and made a new cut on his shoulder, tearing deep into his flesh. The oldest Winchester let out a cry of anguish, struggling against the binds on his hands like a wounded animal in a trap. To his horror, the ghoul placed his lips on Dean’s abrasion and lapped up the flowing blood.

Dean felt the dizziness set in and he allowed it; he was ready to give up the fight already. Within seconds, the color drained from his face. His stomach protested angrily, tossing and turning, while his head swam. The fluorescent lights were wreaking havoc on his aching head and Dean felt his eyes flutter shut.

 _Bam!_ The monster slapped the hunter across the face with extreme force. Dean yelped in both pain and surprise as he heard a distinct crack and felt his jaw dislocate. He moaned before promptly passing out, much to the ghoul’s dismay.

* * *

 Sam hastily parked the Chevy Impala and through open the car door. “Let’s go, Cas!”

Castiel followed Sam in close pursuit as they both jogged to the back of the funeral home.

The sight that met them was not a pretty one. Dean, unconscious, bloody and pale, tied up in a chair and that monster leaning over him, sucking the very life out of Sam’s brother.

“ _Dean!_ ” Sam yelled as his instinct took over. He immediately got a punch in on the ghoul, Sam’s large fist making crushing contact with the fiend’s face. A hook to the stomach and a kick to the balls brought the thing down, but only for a second.

“Ooh, you’re a fiesty one, you are! And my, your feet are large! You know what they say about men with big feet; they have big--”

Sam grabbed the ghoul by the neck, forcing him into a wall. With astounding strength, the villain overthrew him and hit him in the eye, blurring his vision. The thing was on top of him now, wailing on Sam’s face. Before either of them knew it, Castiel broke a light fixture off the ceiling and pegged the monster in the head.

Despite the pain he was in, Sam smiled. “Head trauma, Cas; that’s what kills ghouls. You did learn something.”

Castiel nodded, quickly turning his attention to Dean and cutting his hands and feet free. The angel placed his hand on Dean’s forehead. “Sam, he’s lost a lot of blood and he’s got a fever.”

The younger brother took of his shirt and tossed it to Cas, who then placed it on Dean’s gaping wound.

* * *

As Sam sped them back to the motel, going about 65, he glanced in the rearview mirror and couldn’t help but think how small Dean looked in that moment. How vulnerable, how very _broken_ he was. Seeing Dean like this hurt Sam more than his brother or anyone else for that matter could ever understand.

Dean was lying on his back, his head in Castiel’s lap, the angel’s cold hands on Dean’s fevered skin. Without really thinking about it, Cas ran his fingers through Dean’s messy hair, murmuring what could’ve been a prayer. When he closed his eyes, he could feel the hunter’s shaky breaths and practically feel the pain he was in.

“Cas…” a ragged voice muttered. Dean coughed dryly, which proceeded to develop into a coughing fit.

“Dean, shh, I’m with you.” Castiel assured him. “Sam is driving us back to the motel room.”

“‘m thirsty.” he moaned, coughing again. Sam’s ears perked up. “Cas, I have a bottle of water up front. Here.” he said, handing it to the angel. Castiel helped Dean sit up a bit, so he was now leaning on Cas for support rather than laying on him. “Dean, water.”

Dean felt the plastic being eased into his mouth and gladly drank from it, soothing his parched mouth.

“We’re here.” Sam announced, pulling the keys out of the ignition and coming around to help Castiel with Dean. Together, the younger brother and angel carried him into the motel room and placed him on a bed.

“Just sleep, Dean.” Castiel advised. The eldest Winchester nodded off instantaneously without further encouragement.


	7. Epilogue

Sam Winchester stitched up Dean’s arm while he was asleep. A little ointment and slow, careful stitches did the job just fine. He had popped Dean’s jaw back into place earlier, warning him not to sneeze or yawn for awhile.

Castiel at by Dean the entire night, from about eight o’clock in the evening to three in the morning, during which he fell asleep for about ten minutes, then woke up, wings fluttering in a panic. “Cas, it’s okay.” Sam assured him, smiling. He had decided to stay awake as well, watching over his older brother. They were both his caretakers this time.

* * *

Dean awoke the next morning to a peculiar sight. Sam was half-asleep in a chair, his head drooping down, then quickly bobbing up, a humorous instinct. Each time, he grunted a bit, then sighed, making Dean smile.

No sooner than Dean had started to wonder where on Earth Cas was, something cold touched his leg, deep under the covers. Naturally, he jumped, scooting a few centimeters away. Slowly turning his head so as not to dislocate his jaw again, he turned over on his side to come face-to-face with a sleeping angel. Literally.

Castiel’s fingers stretched out, searching the bed for something. A sign of warmth perhaps, a sign that everything was okay. Making sure that Sam was asleep, Dean reached his hand out to meet Castiel’s and gripped it firmly. He fell asleep with a grin etched on his freckled face.


End file.
